


Terciopelo

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hidden Talents, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, POV Keith (Voltron), Secrets, established klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 23:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13177545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: For all their time together, Keith thought he had a good read on his boyfriend. He'd seen him at his worst, and they'd become comfortable enough to be vulnerable together; they were stronger as a couple because of it. Despite all that, Keith was starting to realize that there was something that differentiated Lance from the rest of them, something that in retrospect helped to explain a lot of his actions.Or, Lance used to be a criminal before the Garrison, and Keith finds out about it.





	Terciopelo

**Author's Note:**

> this is something i started a long ass time ago, and as i was procrastinating on my other writings, i decided to finish this instead lol. title comes from the fer-de-lance, google it, it's pretty cool

Keith knew he wasn’t the best at reading people, but looking back, the clues had all been there. All through their strained relationship turned friendship turned romance, he could’ve discovered the truth on his own. But, it was so impossible to see Lance in a negative light given everything he'd come to know about him. They’d had deep conversations, heart-to-hearts. He knew about Lance’s insecurities, his homesickness—everything, he’d thought.

Turns out, maybe he didn’t even know Lance like he thought he did.

* * *

_There was so much blood, some red, some green… it was clear that the green outweighed the red. They had completed their mission, Keith thought, but at what cost? Not just of their enemies’ lives, but of their own minds. They were fresh out of the Garrison, untrained kids… meant to be pilots, not… what they were now. Soldiers… Killers._

_Even days later he was shaken up. He wasn’t one for talking, so instead he trained. He also watched. He watched Hunk spend hours baking and staring at the rising pastries. He watched Pidge retreat to her lab and listened to her muddled babbling. He watched Shiro looking after everyone, as he often did, as he was the only one with experience of war and thus the only one who knew how such things could really fuck with their minds._

_But with Lance… there was nothing to watch. Lance had been the first to jump into the fray, after all—hell, he’d laughed when he’d hit his shots, cheered and kept count. At the time, it kept things more lighthearted, but with each tick, that was a body, an entire life, just… gone. Wasn’t he bothered? Sure, he hardly seemed like the most complex of guys in general, always smiling or joking. But, they'd seen his weak moments, they knew he had the capacity to feel deeply about certain things. So, when all the others were breaking down just trying to cope with the violence, why not him?_

* * *

_“I’m surprised you don’t wanna do it,” Keith remarked. Lance’s head spun toward him quickly; he glared._

_“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped._

_Keith didn’t understand the tone, he only figured it was Lance’s usual antagonistic attitude he reserved solely for him. “I mean, the way you grew up and everything? Figured you’d like a chance to wrestle.” He'd simply challenged Lance to a spar after their usual team training, so he wasn't sure why he was so worked up._

_“What, you think I’m a fighter? Nah man,” he shook his head. “I don’t do that shit anymore. And I don’t appreciate you making those kinds of assumptions about me, you hear?”_

_“Um…” Keith frowned. “Alright? Geez. I just thought—“_

_“Yeah, well quit thinking, man. Nothing good ever came from thinking too long about this shit.”_

_“You had a big family! You've said that you had a few brothers! Probably used to rough-housing! That’s all I’m saying!” Keith shouted. Their teammates glanced at the pair, surely curious as to the topic of their fight this time around._

_Lance’s mouth fell open, his eyes widened. Then he gave a sheepish grin. “Oh. Right. Of course. That makes a lot more sense, actually.”_

_“Duh. Idiot.”_

_“Hey!”_

* * *

_They were laying in Lance’s bed, basking in their afterglow and attempting to calm down for bed. Lance’s arm was around Keith’s shoulder, while Keith was comfortably tucked against his chest. It was far from their first time cuddled up like this, yet he froze on discovering something new, his tracing finger stumbling across a scar he’d never seen. It was small, just a raised line, but it looked painful and jagged. Very unlike the clean and flat scars that arose after a bout in the cryopod._

_“What’s this from?” he asked, pushing the scar slightly._

_“Hm?” Lance tilted his head to look down at where Keith was pointing. “Oh. Let me think… Oh yeah! My brother, I think he shot me accidentally with, like, a BB gun or something… it got infected and super nasty, had to get stitches.”_

_Keith sat up, looking closely at the scar. “It’s huge. And long.”_

_“That’s what she—“_

_“Shut up,” Keith rolled his eyes. “Must’ve been pretty bad to have gotten this scar…”_

_“Well, scars are cool. They’re a sign of how tough you are!”_

_“Tough? Or just stupid?”_

_“Nah… it wasn't like that. I remember that day, how much fun we were all having—until I got shot,” he laughed. “I’m covered in scars, you know. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed them.”_

_“You are?” he leaned over to switch on the light. Lance winced at the sudden brightness, but opened his arms for Keith to peruse. It was true. Though his skin was otherwise smooth and flawless, he had a number of similar, ugly marks and spots. Keith wondered, too, why he’d never noticed them. He made a mental note to pay closer attention to these and any other such quirks during their future rendezvous._

_Still feeling curious, he nudged Lance’s side. “Flip over.” Lance obliged, and Keith raked his eyes over his offered form. A particularly horrid scar glared back at him on his left shoulder. “What’s this?” he gently placed his finger to it, and Lance flinched. “It looks like a burn.”_

_“Oh, yeah… it was something dumb, I know… but I can't remember.”_

_Keith’s finger trailed lower to a large bump on his side. “And this?”_

_“That was just a small thing, my body just tends to overdo it with the scar tissue. Genetics,” he chuckled. “You tired yet? We have to be up early.”_

_“Right, sorry,” he replied. Lance turned over and shut off his light, and they returned to their previous position. Keith drifted off to sleep thinking about the scars—if Lance truly thought so highly of scars, why didn’t he seem to remember the causes of some of them? Had he forgotten? Was he embarrassed? Before he could ask, he fell asleep only to forget about the conversation in the morning._

* * *

_It was undeniable that Lance’s shot was incredible. His bayard was perfect for him, and even with other guns, he was a near perfect shot._

_Keith was curious—had the Garrison trained his class in shooting? The focus had been on travel, after all, and they preached a message of peaceful voyaging. He was sure that during their final year they’d go over basic self-defense, but other than that there was hardly a focus on battle. Why, then, would Lance be such a good shot? Keith was only so skilled at combat because he’d practiced on his own. Had Lance too practiced without the team's knowledge?_

_After a mission requiring Lance’s particular skillset, Keith decided to ask him while they were preparing to tuck into bed._

_“Why am I a good shot?” he repeated. He couldn't hide his smirk. “Maybe it's just my natural skill?”_

_“I’m not an idiot,” Keith frowned. “For how good you are, it can’t be_ all _natural.”_

_Lance ruffled his hair. “Aw, thanks, babe!”_

_“Shut up.”_

_Lance’s smile faded as he seemed to think. After a few silent seconds, he shrugged. “Well, I’ve already told you that my brother had a BB gun, right? Well, so did I. We’d go out shooting every once in a while… guess I just got used to it?”_

_“Did you guys hunt?”_

_He laughed. “Keith, babe… you do know I spent most of my life in Miami, right? No hunting to be had there, not for game at least.”_

_Keith left it at that, never noting his word choice. Again, he went to sleep._

* * *

_Hunk was attempting to teach Keith how to play Pidge’s gaming system to no avail; Keith didn’t particularly care, he had only wanted to better understand it so that, maybe, he could spend more time with Lance since he was a fan. Hunk had thought it was cute, and said as much, as the pair had become more open about their relationship to the rest of the team._

_They’d had their fair share of conversations, but Keith had yet to talk to Hunk about Lance, he realized._

_“Hey Hunk,” he began. “What was Lance like in the Garrison?”_

_Hunk set aside his controller. “About the same as he is now, I’d say. Why do you ask?”_

_He shrugged. “I’m just curious. He seems like the type to have always been the way he is, you know?”_

_Hunk nodded. “I thought that too. But, I’m not sure. There was another kid from Lance’s high school that was at the Garrison. Zach—did you know him?” Keith shook his head. “Right, shoulda figured. Anyway… he hated Lance with a passion. Those two couldn’t even be in the same room as each other. Once, they even had, like, an old-school fistfight!”_

_“Over what?” Keith asked, shocked._

_“I’m not sure, they were both speaking Spanish.”_

_“I thought you knew Spanish?”_

_“I learned it in high school, but you know high school language classes… a year later and you don’t know crap. I brushed up on it only after meeting Lance. Besides, they were speaking Cuban Spanish, which just sounds a bit different; even now I honestly probably couldn’t even understand Lance if he was talking quickly with his family, or something.”_

_“I see.”_

_“Anyway, it was kinda scary, the fight. I’d never seen Lance so angry! It took, like, four guys to get him off of Zach. After that, the kid never so much as looked at Lance without turning tail and running.”_

_“That doesn’t sound like Lance.”_

_“I never talked to that Zach kid, but from what I could glean from some of his friends, Garrison Lance was a world apart from high school Lance.”_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“Me either, man. But, maybe it’s not something you could learn from me.”_

_Keith nodded. “Alright. Thanks, Hunk.”_

_“Anytime.”_

* * *

_They’d been sent on their own to deliver a captured Galran soldier to the Blade. It was clear what the Blade planned to do to him, something that Allura refused to participate in but turned her head to: torture. On the short flight, they spoke freely._

_“I think it’s fucked up,” Keith said, frank as usual._

_“How come?”_

_“It’s_ torture _, Lance! You know, a crime? Ring a bell?”_

_He shrugged. “Hate to break it to you, babe, but I’m not sure the laws we’re used to apply out here. Anyway, this guy’s not some innocent. He’s had a hand in killing thousands, maybe millions.”_

_“You don’t know that for sure!”_

_“I know at the very least that he killed two members of the Blade,” he glared. “Those are our people, Keith. We gotta fight for our own.”_

_“What?”_

_“Look, this is war. It’s messy. He knew what he was getting into.”_

_“But… torture? Can’t the Blade get information another way?”_

_Another shrug. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”_

_“And if he doesn’t give them anything? If it’s all for nothing?”_

_“Then that’s one extra son of a bitch trying to kill us out of this world. How can that be bad?”_

_Keith balked at his attitude. He was surprised that Lance of all people, generous and kind as he was, was taking this stance._

_“Do you think all Galra should die, then?”_

_He glanced at Keith. “Don’t be stupid. I’d never think that way. I simply think that those who hurt my friends should be dealt with. It’s that easy.”_

_“You’re usually more forgiving.”_

_He laughed. “I forgive Hunk when he eats my snacks, or you when you hit me too hard at training. That’s nothing. But, killing? Threatening? That shit don’t fly with me. I don’t do that ‘turn the other cheek’ shit. Hell, send the head of any soldier we bag to Zarkon, that'd send a message.”_

_“That’s… pretty dark.”_

_“It’s intimidation. It’s how people win.”_

_“Seems cruel and unnecessary.”_

_“Just like war, Keith.”_

_When they’d gotten to the Blade’s ship, they’d stuck around for a bit out of politeness to their allies. A member of the Blade he hadn’t recognized had asked them if they’d like a go at the prisoner in return for delivering him. Keith had declined. Lance, however, had agreed to it with a smile._

_“What the hell are you doing?” Keith pulled him aside in order to hiss in his ear._

_“Hey, they offered.”_

_“This isn’t our job. We should head home.”_

_“It’ll only be a few swings. Nothing too serious. You need to relax.”_

_“Relax? Me? I’m not the one about to attack an unarmed man.”_

_“An_ enemy _,” he insisted. “Remember that, Keith, this man’s a murderer.”_

_“So are we!”_

_“And? If they captured one of us, they’d do the same—probably worse since we’re more important than this foot soldier.”_

_“This is so wrong…”_

_“Just wait out here, then. I don’t expect you to watch or approve.” Lance brushed off Keith’s arm and followed the Blade agents to the cell._

_He returned an hour later without a word on the subject, and Keith didn’t press him. Their flight back to the castle-ship was quiet too, and they kept apart for the night._

_By the next day, Lance was back to his chipper self, and he didn’t mention a thing to the others, even as the Princess condemned the Blade’s behavior over lunch._

_Keith, too, kept quiet._

* * *

He was alone, again, waiting up for Lance to return from who know’s what. The local gang that had taken them in only a day before had practically initiated the young man already, and Keith was just a part of the package, Lance had insisted.

He wondered how Voltron was doing, if they were doing fine without three Paladins. It’d only been a few weeks since they left, a couple days past their mission deadline; but still, he was sure they were all worried, probably already searching the cosmos for any sign of them. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t find them on the planet they’d landed on, but on a small ship orbiting that planet’s neighbor, inflicting terror by robbing citizens, holding up shops, and fighting other small squads.

Growing up as he had, and with his introverted personality, Keith wasn’t one for friends, let alone gangs. He wasn’t usually in one spot long enough to establish those ties. As such, when he and Lance had been captured by these young aliens, he hadn’t known what to do when they looked to them not as enemies, but as potential recruits. Lance, though…

Lance was perfect.

At first Keith thought he’d been acting—Lance had explained that he’d simply watched a lot of violent movies growing up. But, the way he spoke, carried himself, wormed his way into the ranks of their very captors by taking advantage of their weaknesses, it was clear that there was something else going on, something he’d pointedly chosen not to share with Keith.

The door of their shared cell—“It’s a room,” Lance had insisted. “We’re guests here. They’re our friends!”—opened, and in walked Lance, smiling and waving at an unseen figure.

“I’ll be sure to take you up on that, Wiprun.” He slipped into the room after one last wink, shutting the door behind him. The overdone smile on his face was replaced with a gentler one that Keith had grown used to over the months. “Hey,” he said simply.

“Hey,” Keith repeated. He cleared his throat. “So… how was… it?”

“My initiation?” he supplied. “Fantastic. These guys are, maybe, a bit too trusting—doesn’t speak well to the potential longevity of their operation, but that’s definitely not our problem.”

“What did they have you do?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well… won’t I have to do it too?”

“Oh, um, about that…” he rubbed the back of his head. “That won’t be an issue, either.”

“And why not?”

“They kind of assume from our… relationship, that you’re not exactly the one carrying the sword in this duo.”

“Huh?”

“They think you’re my…” he crossed his arms, looking to the side. “They mean this in the most respectful way—apparently it’s a huge honor.”

“They think I’m your what?”

“My bitch, in essence.”

Keith’s mouth fell open, and Lance at least looked sheepish about it. “And why, Lance, would they think that?”

“I may have… told them that’s what you were?”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Hey, it's a good cover! Now they just think you’re here to… keep me happy? This way they won’t expect it when we make our move to bust out and you're actually fighting, too!”

“So we _are_ busting out, then?” Keith spat.

Lance raised a brow. “Of course we are! We have Voltron to get back to!”

“From how chummy you’ve gotten with them, I’d almost thought you’d found a new team,” he turned his head, avoiding Lance’s eye. His tone was petulant, he knew. Whiny, even, but he didn’t care.

Lance sat next to him on the bed, trying to take his hand. “Babe… why are you upset? If I didn’t go along with them, they’d have killed us. And… they’re just kids… I don’t want for us to just kill them either. They’re technically working against the local Galran patrols, too, you know, in their own way.”

“So if they were a couple years older you’d have killed them?”

“I’d assume they’d be more difficult to kill in that case, so I’d have to reevaluate.”

“Why is this so easy for you?”

“What?”

“From the second you’ve gotten here, you’ve known when to be dominant, when to give respect… when to agree and when to stand your ground… they look at you like… a leader, already—even that girl who’s supposed to be in charge!” Keith turned back to look at him, but now Lance was looking away.

He stood from the bed. “I’m a social guy, Keith! I’m good at reading the room, believe it or not, especially in these kinds of environments…”

“What? …gangs?”

“No!” he insisted. “Like… groups of people. Teams! Yeah! It’s just like any sports team. You have your captain,” he said, starting a count on his fingers. “Co-captains… uh, rookies… power structures!—that’s it! I’m a pro at interpreting those.”

“Why?”

He frowned. “Because it’s how human organize themselves? I mean, it was like this in the Garrison, too, you know. Not so much with our class since we were only first years and hadn't formed anything yet, but the upperclassmen—there was totally an unspoken rule of law. You had the top dogs, like Shiro, before he went to Kerberos. People always followed him, and people like him. The strong become the leaders; others, the followers.”

“What are you saying?” his brows furrowed in confusion. He certainly hadn’t noticed anything like that. “Shiro wouldn’t expect people to follow him.”

“It’s not about what he thought, it’s about what people thought of him! Man, I always admired him for his presence, for how he could control a room just by being there!” he smiled, and Keith would’ve found it sweet if they hadn’t have been talking about something so… strange. “He’s a natural born leader, which is something I’ve always wanted to be.”

Keith only stared, not sure what to say. Lance was charismatic, sure, and when he was serious, besides becoming about fifty times hotter in Keith’s eyes, he was also highly efficient and smart, even. He imagined Lance would make a great leader, if the circumstance called for it. “So is that why… you’re doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Acting… differently? To be a ‘top dog’, or whatever, in this gang?”

Lance’s smile fell, and he walked toward the door. “I’m not acting, Keith. It’s not my fault I fit in better than you here.”

Keith shrugged. “Yeah, I’m no good at… teams, or whatever. I mean, it took me forever to get on board with Voltron, even. And that was mainly because I trusted Shiro.” Lance turned back to look at him. “I feel like… you’re not telling me the whole truth.”

Lance’s hand came up to rub at his eyes. “Yeah. I’m not.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“I trust you. I just… well… I don’t think you’d see me in the same way if I was being completely truthful.”

“Why not?”

“Because. I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me sometimes, like… you’re scared of me, or something. Like how you are now.”

“I’m not scared,” he shook his head. “I just… I don’t understand. Can’t you just tell me?”

“You’ve always been so simple, Keith,” Lance chuckled. “But it’s not always so easy.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Can’t you quit beating around the bush?”

“What I mean is, everything is black or white for you. Something’s either right or wrong, there’s hardly any moral grey with you. It’s nice, don’t get me wrong—something I admire about you, your convictions. But, in war, even in a place like this, it can be weakness.”

“What, my morals?”

“No, not your morals, just… how adamant you are about them, I suppose.”

“You’d prefer I tolerate murder and torture and theft?”

Lance sighed. “Of course not. But, you’re so wrapped up in your belief of the inherent wrongness of these things that you don’t stop to think about _why_ people are doing them.”

“And you do, I suppose?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“So you’re getting along so well because you see that these kids are killing and looting to survive and you… feel bad for them?”

“Quiznak, Keith,” he groaned. “I get along so well because I _was_ these kids! I… I am one of them, still. I… the things I do, what I think… I’m not like… the rest of you guys. Like, yeah, we've all killed and destroyed tons of people, but because they were evil it made it somewhat alright. But I.. Well... My actions haven’t always been moral by any means. Or legal.”

“What are you saying?”

“You know why it was so hard for me to get into the Garrison? It wasn’t as if I was an idiot, or incapable. But, they looked down at me, for my name… my record. I was a charity case to them, you know. A reformed criminal turned posterboy for the government—that’s what their goal was, anyway. What they were training me for before all this.”

“Record?” Keith frowned. He’d had his fair share of disciplinary issues himself, even before the Garrison. He’d always had a personality that clashed with others, especially those in authority. And yet, he knew that no authorities back on earth had his name on any list of theirs. 

“I’d been in a gang since I could walk, Keith. My family, my dad… they were something of a big deal out in Miami. Hardly gangbangers like you see on TV, mind you—we were loaded; more like… Dons and drug-dealing type shit than bats and guns in alleys.”

“What?”

“I was born into an empire, Keith. The youngest son, so I wasn’t expected to lead, but I still had to prove myself—maybe more than others. But I never used my bloodline to my advantage—I earned my spot just like everyone else,” he said. Keith thought it odd that he sounded so defensive about that aspect, rather than the bigger problem. “This environment, it’s juvenile, I’ll admit, but I’m well-studied on how to carry myself through it. If my father got a look at their operation, shit, he’d take it out and take over their spot for himself. I could, too, with a bit of time. But, we’re just trying to get access to their ship, to get our Lions back and get out of here, as tempting as it is…” he cleared his throat.

Keith kept quiet, pondering over his next words. It was clear that Lance was worried about his reaction, and he didn’t want to ruin things between them by hurting him. He understood why Lance had hidden this… side of him. He was worried, however, that Lance didn’t seem so ashamed about his past, but actually content to fall back into his habits.

“What did they have you do, today?”

Lance blinked, then swallowed. “There was a Galra guard they’d captured a few days ago. They’d already tried interrogating him, and he was pretty beat up when I saw him. He’d gotten a good view of their operation, their base, so he had to be eliminated.”

“And you killed him.”

Lance nodded. “I did.”

“Did you even stop to think about it?”

“He was—“

“Yes or no, Lance.”

“No,” he said, his voice firm. “I did not.”

“Do you remember, that time with the Blade? The Galra you tortured?”

“Yes.”

“Do you regret that?”

“I don’t.”

“Was that your first time doing that kind of thing?”

“No.”

“All of us, besides maybe Shiro, had our first kills out here. Did you?”

“No.”

“Is it… easy for you?”

“If they deserve it, then yes.”

“And if they don’t?”

“The people we’re fighting do.”

“But you’ve killed people who didn’t deserve it?”

“I… I have.”

“Why?”

“Because I was told to.”

“Do you like it?”

“What, killing people? No, of course not!”

“What about this environment? Do you like being in charge, giving orders, leading these impressionable kids?”

“I… I don’t know. Do you like flying? Do you like breathing? If it’s something you’ve always known, something you’ve never not done before, how can you judge whether you like it or not? All I know is that it’s always been my life, Keith, in some form or another. I mean, you were in the Garrison, that was a military academy—surely you got some of the… cultish vibe.”

“We weren’t trained to kill, but to explore.”

“Yeah, on ships with guns more powerful than a small country’s entire arsenal. It was the same there, just… more organized and official.”

“I… I just don’t see it.”

“I understand. Look, once this is done and we get back to the others, we don’t have to talk about this. But, now you know, so… I get if you don’t want us to be… us, anymore, I guess.”

“What, you think I’d break up with you over this?”

“I mean, you’re clearly uncomfortable.”

“So?”

Lance eyed him oddly. “This isn’t something you can change, either, especially since I don’t… see it as a problem, especially not during this war.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of getting that.”

“And…?”

He paused, then shrugged. “I mean, I think the signs were there. The way you acted when you had to kill, your scars,” he startled. “Oh, Zach, or whoever.”

Lance growled. “How the hell did you hear about him?”

“Hunk mentioned it. What was that about?”

“My dad was responsible for the imprisonment of his dad, who was a dirty cop that my dad chose to drop. So, he had every right to hate me, and I would've let that be that. But then he threatened to tell everyone at the Garrison about who I was. I didn't want that, and neither did the Garrison, which is why I wasn’t punished when things got more physical.”

“Right. Well, like I was saying: there was always something different about you. I guess now I just have an explanation. I’m not holding it against you, though, not unless…”

“Unless what?”

“After all this, when you go back home, will you go back to your father? Do for him what you’ve always done?”

“No, I think, after this, I’d like to forget about the weight of a gun in my hand, if that makes sense. This whole war, in comparison to the squabbles my dad concerned himself with… well it puts things in perspective. I’m older now, I can recognize that some of the things we’ve—he and I, I mean—done were downright horrible. But, that’s my family, you know? It’s not like I’ll go back and take apart what he and his father built… though maybe that would be the right thing to do... but I don't intend to stand by his side anymore, either. I can't say, though, right now. I mean, they probably think I'm dead, anyway...”

“Hey…” Keith took a step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “That’s not a problem for today, so don’t hurt yourself thinking about that, okay?” he gave a smile, which Lance returned.

“Thank you, Keith, for listening. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you to react as well as you have.”

“It’s okay, I understand why you thought that way, given how I’ve reacted to… certain things in the past. But, can you try to be more honest with me, from now on? Especially about these kind of things. I’m not asking you to change who you are, but, if you really admire the way I view things, maybe… well, maybe we could learn a thing or two from each other, you know?”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying.” He placed a hand over Keith’s squeezing lightly. Leaning forward, he pressed a single kiss to Keith’s forehead. “Wanna learn something new right now?”

“Depends,” he said, noting Lance’s sneaky smirk. Lance reached for the desk, taking up his bayard which he’d managed to sneak past the gang’s sentries—Keith wasn’t sure how, still.

“I call this one, ‘let’s blow this pop stand and get the hell back home by creating a super large diversion since these dummies accidentally showed me where the generator for the base is’.”

“Catchy,” Keith rolled his eyes. “We still need to get my bayard back, though.”

“I know exactly where they left it, so don’t you fret.”

“So now that I know your big, dark secret, are you gonna become some sort of badass?” he teased.

“Well, if that’s what you’re expecting, I guess I have no choice but to deliver!” he laughed. His bayard transformed into a small pistol with a long nozzle—a silencer? Keith wondered when Lance had managed to unlock that particular transformation. “Blue was explaining to me that my bayard has a less lethal setting I can use, should I wish. This little baby packs a punch, but it’s just sleep darts, apparently.”

Keith nodded. “That’s good.”

“I do feel bad for these kids, though…” he frowned. “I’m worried they won’t last too long going forward the way they are… Those Galra patrols are getting closer and closer to catching them each day.”

“Is there anything they can do? To stay safer?”

“Besides just going home?” Lance said. “Yeah, there’s a lot they could do. Not trusting complete strangers like us would be a good start.”

“How long could they last, do you think?”

He shook his head. “A month, maybe less? Their numbers are dwindling, people keep getting caught—it won’t be long before someone’s caught alive and they’re forced to spill everything they know.”

“Well, then we’ve got no choice but to stay and help them.”

“Huh?” Lance’s shocked expression was priceless.

“You said it yourself, they’re sort of fighting Zarkon. And, unfortunately, this is the only way for them to get by, to provide for their families, since the Galra have fucked up their planet's economy. I’m sure with some… guidance from someone they already look up to, they could actually contribute some to the Resistance.”

“They’ll be killing. They’ll be like me.”

“In times like these, maybe that’s just what this planet needs. People who can do what needs to be done. With time, they’ll be at peace, I’m sure.”

“Or they’ll get rid of the Galra and just become a menace to the other locals,” he noted.

“Perhaps. But, if we do nothing, they’ll just be a group of dead kids, and that’s… that’s not something I want to see happen.”

“Yeah, me either.” He hummed. “Well, it’s not as if I can stick behind and help lead a gang while you guys go off fighting with Voltron.”

“I don’t want you to stay, just… instruct them.”

“We need to send a message to the others that we’re alive, then ask for a few more days.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out something. You’re a resourceful kind of guy.”

“Geez, Keith, are you even gonna help me out?” he joked. “Maybe you really are just the kept man, sitting there and looking pretty.”

“Say that again and I’ll stab you.”

Lance laughed heartily. “Fair. Well, it’s about time for the guards to switch shifts.”

“Perfect time to strike.”

Lance cocked his weapon. “As I always say, ‘Equis marca el lugar’.”

“What? You’ve never said that.”

“Been a while,” he admitted. “Just, follow me. I’m Equis.”

Keith raised a brow, but stepped behind Lance as he reached for the doorknob. On the count of three, they charged into the empty hall, Keith following Lance’s silent commands all the way to the generator. It was easy work causing the diversion, easy work taking the leader hostage and demanding a parley.

He wasn’t surprised when they all agreed to Lance’s crash-course, as it were, and they happily handed over a communicator, much to Lance’s chagrin. “They’re still too trusting,” he shook his head. “Not everyone’s as nice as us.”

“But not everyone’s as bad as the Galra,” Keith had countered. Lance chuckled, but it was dry.

Allura was reluctant to let them waste precious time on Lance’s “project”, as she’d taken to calling it, but Keith had been adamant, saying it was important for the entire Resistance that they secure this alliance.

Keith in no way approved of Lance’s former lifestyle, nor did he enjoy the glint he sometimes got in his eye when he shot; the glint that shone even brighter when he killed. He wanted nothing more than for Lance to finally know peace, if possible, to no longer feel as if he had no choice but to resort to violence. And, if that meant taking a page from Lance’s book and walking in the moral grey, for the sake of defeating Zarkon, for the sake of peace, then he would. Perhaps he was starting to understand some of the blind loyalty that Lance had always felt for his family, for his friends and those he loved.

Because if it was for Lance, he would do whatever it took to make him happy.


End file.
